


floating in the waves

by windymoors



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bondage, Communication, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Love, M/M, No Sex, No Smut, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Other, Sub Crowley (Good Omens), Subspace, Trust, it's very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29023026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windymoors/pseuds/windymoors
Summary: Aziraphale moved back and forth, tidying things, placing a foam mat on the floor, looking so much as though he was just puttering that it was impossible to tell what was preparation and what was merely something to do with his hands. Crowley watched it all from the unconcerned vantage point of one who does nothaveto understand what is going on, and has decided he is fine with that.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	floating in the waves

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with another soft trust fic. I'm really happy with how this turned out, and I hope you enjoy reading.

Crowley lounged nonchalantly on the bed and watched Aziraphale move about the room. It was that in-between time, the time where they had decided to do something but had not yet begun to actually do it. At first, it had been awkward. Now, after years of practice had worn into routine, it was just another step on the path to the place they wanted to be tonight.

Aziraphale moved back and forth, tidying things, placing a foam mat on the floor, looking so much as though he was just puttering that it was impossible to tell what was preparation and what was merely something to do with his hands. Crowley watched it all from the unconcerned vantage point of one who does not  _ have _ to understand what is going on, and has decided he is fine with that. He made occasional comments, offhand questions, observations, which Aziraphale responded to when the mood took him. It was a comfortable balance.

Finally Aziraphale stopped near the mat and turned to Crowley. The glint in his eye killed any words Crowley might have still been considering saying before they reached his vocal cords. 

“Ready?” Aziraphale asked, quietly.

Crowley nodded.

The questioning look left Aziraphale’s face. “Come here.”

Crowley scrambled up and over to where Aziraphale was standing. A glance at Aziraphale’s face was all the impetus he needed to change his mind about standing up and sink to his knees on the conveniently placed mat.

“Very good,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley shuddered at the tone in his voice. It was the tone that Crowley allowed to judge him, tell him if he was doing well...and would equally allow to denounce him if it saw fit. 

Aziraphale only used that voice to encourage. Aziraphale only ever used that voice to encourage, and that made the threat of the alternative nothing more than another weapon Crowley handed to Aziraphale when they did this, trusting —  _ knowing _ — that it would never be used.

A hand landed in his hair, gripping tight enough to pull. The edge of pain was grounding, pushing Crowley farther toward that lovely place where everything turned soft around the edges. He let his head drop a little more, incidentally increasing the tug on his hair.

“You’re so ready today,” Aziraphale commented, loosening his thumb to rub gently over the back of Crowley’s head. “So quiet, and trusting…”

Some days Crowley might have argued that, protested that he wasn’t quiet, or patient, made Aziraphale fight him on it at least for show. Today, though...today the words didn’t come, the fight over before it began. Instead he pushed his head against Aziraphale’s legs and closed his eyes.

“I’m beginning to think you would be happy just staying like this all evening,” Aziraphale said above him.

Crowley hummed. “Maybe.”

“And if I decide on something else?” Aziraphale wound a lock of Crowley’s hair around his finger and let it pull off, slowly.

“Also good,” Crowley said honestly. 

Aziraphale made a noise of assent and said, “Put your hands behind your back.”

Crowley did, lost his balance briefly as he stopped leaning his weight on his hand, and readjusted, lacing his fingers loosely together behind his back.

“Good,” Aziraphale said, and stepped back, releasing his hold on Crowley’s hair as he did.

Crowley made a protesting noise and looked up.

“Be patient,” Aziraphale reminded him.

“Don’t want to,” Crowley retorted.

Aziraphale eyed him for a long moment. His expression was calm, and patient, and in control.

Crowley looked down.

Aziraphale’s footsteps circled him, stopping behind his back. Hands settled on his arms, sliding down them, encircling his wrists. Crowley leaned back, trying to find Aziraphale without looking, but Aziraphale tightened his hold on Crowley’s wrists, pressing forwards, keeping him in place.

“I want you to stay just like this,” Aziraphale said, voice only a few inches from Crowley’s ear. “Can you do that?”

Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale didn’t move.  _ “Will _ you do that?”

Would he? The contrarian in him wanted to say no, nudge a toe out of line, see what would happen. Make the game into a push-pull of actions.

Aziraphale squeezed his wrists once, briefly, and the contrarian slipped away in the face of Aziraphale’s words, run on repeat through Crowley’s head.

_ I want you to stay like this. _

Crowley nodded.

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “You will.” He let go.

Crowley thought about turning his head to see what Aziraphale was up to, but something — the soft fuzz in his mind, Aziraphale’s words — stopped him. Instead he let his eyes close, dropped his chin a little bit, and settled in to stay.

Footsteps sounded again, walking past his left side. Crowley opened his eyes and looked at Aziraphale, who was circling him, a pleased, calm expression on his face.

Aziraphale caught his eye. “I’m admiring you,” he said, as matter-of-fact as if he had said “I’m reading a book.” “You’re doing very well.”

“There’s that much to admire?” Crowley couldn’t help saying. The softness of the world seemed to be fading a little without Aziraphale so close.

Aziraphale smiled, pleased and confident. “So much, my dear. Hush and wait while I look.”

And, well, there really wasn’t anything for Crowley to do with  _ that _ but shiver, clutch his fingers a little tighter together, and wait.

He didn’t consciously realize that he’d closed his eyes again until a gentle touch to his arm made him jump.

“Shh,” Aziraphale said, behind him again. “It’s just me. How are you?”

Crowley took a deep breath, began again to lean back into Aziraphale, and stopped himself. “Good.” He racked his brain for more detailed words, and came up short. 

Aziraphale’s hand skimmed comfortably along Crowley’s arm, off again, and settled on Crowley’s waist. “Good to continue?”

Crowley leaned a little into the touch. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Aziraphale hummed acknowledgement, and his hand left Crowley’s waist. Crowley didn’t even have time to miss the touch before there were hands on his wrists again, and this time he felt the unmistakable sensation of soft rope accompanying them. This day was just getting better and better.

“You’ve done such a good job,” Aziraphale said as he wound the rope between Crowley’s arms. “You deserve to be able to relax.”

Once Crowley’s wrists were firmly anchored together, he felt Aziraphale begin to weave the rope up his arms, pulling just tight enough to exert some pressure, keep Crowley’s arms where they had been, but not so much that it was uncomfortable. Aziraphale’s hands were warm where they brushed Crowley’s skin, heralding the arrival of the rope’s soft, firm strands. 

When Aziraphale had wrapped rope up to Crowley’s shoulders, he released his hold on Crowley’s arms. Crowley had just enough time to open his eyes and see Aziraphale moving around to crouch in front of him before Aziraphale threaded another length of rope behind Crowley’s back and began to weave around his torso.

“Oh, heck,” Crowley said, a little tremblingly.

Aziraphale smiled at him, self-assured and happy. Crowley considered giving up on muscles entirely and just collapsing into Aziraphale’s arms.

Aziraphale tied off the web of rope now covering Crowley’s chest and hooked his fingers in it, tugging forward until he could lay a kiss on Crowley’s nose. “I have you,” he murmured. “Let go.” 

The rope pulled against Crowley’s sides and back, and he let his fingers slip out of their grip on each other. Now the ties on his arms pulled too, the pressure gentle but constant. What few coherent thoughts he had left were rapidly obscured by a fuzzy static that seemed to swallow everything in its path. He swayed slightly.

Aziraphale’s hands caught him, then, steadied him, guided him forward to lean against Aziraphale’s knee. 

Oh. Aziraphale was sitting down now, in a chair that he must have miracled over from somewhere, and leaning over Crowley attentively, protectively. Crowley automatically nudged himself closer, curling in under that protection.

“That’s right,” Aziraphale said, low and steady and safe. “There is nothing you have to do. You’ve done so well.”

His hand curled into Crowley’s hair again, right at the base of the neck, pulling just the tiniest bit, as though Aziraphale was letting the weight of his hand be supported by the hold. Crowley breathed out, breathed in, and slipped fully.

There was nothing left in the world except sensations; the slight give of the mat under his legs, the web of rope on his arms, the press of Aziraphale’s knee against his cheek. Sensations, and the bone-deep knowledge that he was safe, he was protected, he was loved. The things that, no matter how far he went, Aziraphale would make sure he never forgot. 

Aziraphale let go of Crowley’s hair, and Crowley whined, looking up, trying to convey how much he did not want that to happen. 

“Shh,” Aziraphale said gently, settling his hand instead on Crowley’s neck, pressing down until Crowley dropped his head again, relaxing back into the quiet.

Aziraphale’s other hand touched Crowley’s arm, tracing the rope there, running along the edge where rope met skin. He laced his fingers in the web between Crowley’s arms and squeezed, just enough to make the ropes pull briefly. 

“Oh,” Crowley said softly, hardly a word at all, nearly just a breath. He pushed closer to Aziraphale, and the rope pulled again, Aziraphale’s hand still looped in it.  _ “Aziraphale.” _

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked, not letting go, hardly moving, only asking.

“Nothing,” Crowley said. “Do that again.”

“This?” Aziraphale said, and squeezed.

Crowley made an inarticulate noise of assent. Aziraphale leaned forward, hand sliding from Crowley’s neck to his shoulder, and pressed a kiss just above Crowley’s ear. “Thank you for asking,” he murmured.

Crowley might have pointed out that it wasn’t a very complicated thing to ask for, but his mind felt like it was full of gently rolling waves, and the thought vanished with them. He didn’t worry about its disappearance. He didn’t worry about anything. Everything was lovely.

Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s hair, then, and sat back. One hand slipped under the rope that looped over Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley tipped his head to the side to nudge his cheek against it. Aziraphale brushed his thumb against Crowley’s jaw and Crowley closed his eyes again. He wondered, vaguely, if the floor really was swaying under him or if it was just his imagination. 

Then he crested another wave, dove down again, and didn’t think of anything for a long time.

~

Aziraphale was talking. His voice was low, and soothing, and definitely directed at Crowley. He had left the chair to sit close, on the floor, hand resting comfortably on Crowley’s waist.

Crowley reluctantly tuned back into word comprehension. Aziraphale smiled at him. 

“I was thinking it might be a good time to call it for the night,” he said. 

Crowley sighed, then smiled at the amused affection in Aziraphale’s face. He nodded. “‘Kay.”

“All right,” Aziraphale said. “Do you want me to start with your arms, or chest?”

“Arms,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale leaned forward and loosened the knot securing that rope. The pressure on Crowley’s upper arms dropped away, and he felt Aziraphale unwinding it in a slow reversal of earlier. Aziraphale’s hands followed, running smoothly over the places where the rope had been. 

When the last loop dropped away, Crowley let his arms fall to his sides, shaking them out. Aziraphale’s hands moved to his shoulders, pressing down to wake up muscles that had been still for so long. Then he moved to kneel in front of Crowley, fingers untying the second length of rope. 

Crowley brought his arms to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulders and laid his head on one, gazing happily at his partner through the comfortable haze that still blanketed him.

“I can’t see what I’m doing if you sit like that,” Aziraphale chastised gently.

“Mm,” Crowley acknowledged. He raised his head, and Aziraphale resumed his work. 

It was nice, having Aziraphale unwind the rope bit by bit like this. Either one of them could miracle it off in a second if they wanted — would do, if something went wrong — but Crowley much preferred this method. It gave him a chance to wake up a little, come back to the world slowly. 

Aziraphale pulled the last loop of rope free and set the whole thing aside, hands settling on Crowley’s waist. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

Now that Aziraphale was done, Crowley rested his head on his arm again. “Good. Floaty. Sleepy. Something like that. You?”

“I am quite good,” Aziraphale said. “You were wonderful.”

Crowley nodded, then laughed a little. “I want to say things,” he complained, “but no words.”

“Words will come back,” Aziraphale assured him. He wound an arm around Crowley, pulling him closer before sweeping him up into the air. Crowley leaned in, letting Aziraphale carry him to their bed and settle them in. When they stopped moving Aziraphale was sitting up against the headboard, and Crowley was curled next to him, halfway in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale’s hand settled in Crowley’s hair, stroking gently. Crowley let his eyes fall closed.

“You know,” he said a minute later. “This is not going to help me be less fuzzy.”

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale’s voice was the very sound of innocence. He kept stroking.

“Bastard,” Crowley murmured.

Aziraphale ran his fingers smugly along Crowley’s ear. 

A few minutes later Aziraphale’s hand moved to settle, disappointingly stationary, on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley cracked his eyes open and gazed out across the still, dim room. 

He didn’t feel Aziraphale move, but suddenly a cup of water was being held in front of him. Crowley took it, sitting up slightly to sip. Aziraphale’s arm landed across his shoulders, and Crowley snuggled into Aziraphale’s side, settling his own hand on Aziraphale’s leg. They stayed like that, quiet and close, as Crowley came slowly back to Earth. 

“I think I have words again,” he said finally. 

“Oh?” Aziraphale’s tone held just a hint of suggestion that he could change that if they wanted. 

Crowley elbowed him. “Don’t even. You’re the one who decided we were finished.”

Aziraphale laughed and turned to hug Crowley. “I did, and it was a good choice.”

Crowley nodded, melting a little into the embrace. “You made lots of good choices today.”

Aziraphale’s arms tightened briefly. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Always think so,” Crowley murmured, sappy in the aftermath of such a complete brain-fuzz. “Brilliant angel, you are.”

Aziraphale tipped them over onto the pillows. “And what about you? Smart and beautiful and amazing demon, you are.”

“Are we going to talk about the scene?” Crowley demanded, because he didn’t want to figure out how to respond to  _ that _ particular statement right now. “Or is it just a compliment-fest now?”

“We could certainly have a compliment-fest if we want,” Aziraphale mused. “But I do want to make sure we don’t miss talking about anything about today in particular if we want to.”

“It was good,” Crowley said, taking the wheel for a moment. “You were very... _ on _ today.”

“In a good way?”

“Yeah.” Crowley sighed comfortably. “Don’t think I have much more, really. Good scene. Don’t know if I’ll even be fully back to my senses until morning.”

“When you say ‘back to your senses’,” Aziraphale asked, “do you mean ‘back to normal levels of stress and alertness’, or something more nuanced?”

“The first one,” Crowley admitted. It had taken him a long time to be okay with the level of calm and feeling of safety than came when they did this. It had taken even longer — was still a work in progress, really — for him to be okay with that calm persisting afterwards. He loved it, sought it out, but it still scared him, the idea of just not being afraid for a while.

“That’s perfectly all right,” Aziraphale said now, hand stroking Crowley’s back. “You gave me so much tonight, my dear. It makes sense for it to take a while to fade.”

“I know,” Crowley said. He rolled half out of Aziraphale’s arms, onto his back. “What are you thinking for tonight?”

Aziraphale stretched. “I think I may make some tea and read for a while. I imagine you’ll be wanting to nap eventually.”

“I’m going to be wanting to nap  _ now,” _ Crowley commented, and yawned. 

“Do you want to come downstairs with me first, and then sleep a little later?”

Crowley did, even if he wasn’t sure that he felt like walking, and said so.

They meandered down, and Crowley sprawled in a chair next to the table while Aziraphale went around getting around the tea things. Every so often he would pass behind Crowley and reach over to squeeze Crowley’s shoulder, or gently ruffle his hair. Other times Crowley would reach back and catch Aziraphale’s hand for a second, gently brush his fingers over Aziraphale’s arm. Little touches that kept up the connection, reminded them that they were together and comfortable and safe, ushered them back to a more everyday headspace.

When Aziraphale sat down next to him, nudging their legs against each other and handing Crowley a cup of tea, the world shifted another notch back towards normality.

And when Crowley slept that night, curled up next to Aziraphale as he read, it was with a feeling of wonderful, gentle, safe calm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have a chance to leave a comment please do and know that I treasure every one. <3


End file.
